


The Days When My Mother Was There

by Lyra_Kero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Baby Keith (Voltron), Brief Mentions of Blood, Cute, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Canon, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_Kero/pseuds/Lyra_Kero
Summary: Krolia didn’t regret Keith. She didn’t regret falling in love with a human and compromising herself.She did regret when she had to leave her small family.-----A look into the six months Keith shared with his Mother.





	The Days When My Mother Was There

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an AU series that died out when I lost interest, about Keith and his Mom going out and exploring the stars together.  
> When Season 5 hit and we found out her name was Krolia all I did was just change the name of his mom.
> 
>  
> 
> Title is taken from the Persona 5 soundtrack of the same name
> 
>  
> 
> (also that is a lot of K's up in the tags wow)

Krolia didn’t regret Keith. She didn’t regret falling in love with a human and compromising herself when she was supposed to be following a lead on one of the lions (there was talk that it was possibly the Blue Lion, but Kolivan wasn’t keen on saying for sure that it was). She didn’t regret taking longer in her mission.

She did regret when she had to leave her small family.

 

Keith was such a small, fragile thing. Pale skin that she swore was almost translucent and tiny little fingernails. A small tuft of black hair was on his head and when he first opened his eyes after she gave birth, stifling before he began to cry, Krolia fell in love with that stormy violet color. Keith was her child. Her cub. A life that she and her mate created and for six blissful months she forgot about her mission. Forgot what she was supposed to be here for.  
For six months Krolia was a mother first and foremost.

 

She was there for him, feeding him, watching over him as her mate was out to work, providing money to support his new family, trying to carry on as normal. It was hard to be a proud new father when none of your friends knew you even had a girlfriend or were seeing anyone. Equally as hard when you couldn’t tell them about said girlfriend because she was a tall, beautiful and strong purple alien woman who had punched him in the face when he first met her. But he could manage, brushing off his wide smiles those first few days as “just in a good mood, is all”. Friends and coworkers had laughed and joked with him, commenting that he’d just gotten laid and the afterglow was hanging around longer than normal.

They weren’t necessarily wrong.

 

Krolia cherished those days. Grumpy when Keith wailed and sobbed in the middle of the night to be fed or held or changed, but in cradling and cooing and coddling her baby her grumpiness faded. She’d fallen asleep more times than she could count with Keith safely tucked in her arms as she sat in the rocking chair her mate had built for her, or in the nest of blankets and pillows that she’d built before going into labor that had never been cleaned. Refused to clean. Not until Keith could walk and even then it would still be a while before her instincts told her that it was no longer needed. Her mate had never complained about it, even when he would stumble and fall into the nest late at night when it was his turn to go check on their son.

 

Krolia loved Keith. Loved the day that he wobbled and rolled onto his stomach. Had gasped and gave a startled yelp when she had set him down, bare for the world after changing his diaper and turned to pluck a new one to wrap around her son, only to find that he had rolled onto his stomach and was scooching off, dark eyes wide with the new prospect of exploring his world. When he propped himself up on his hands and rocked side to side before falling back onto his stomach and proceeded to just roll around in the nest, babbling with wonder at his newfound mobility.

 

And don’t get her started on his favorite toy. He had several toys, from a blue pacifier to small duck plushes and a dog toy (“it’s more durable and it’s not like he’s going to know the difference” her mate had said when Krolia leveled a glare at him as their son squealed in delight in waving around a green rubber circle. It was the first and only toy he bought like that, but she did have to admit that it was lasting well). But his absolute favorite that he always reached for was a small grey hippo. It was soft, not very well stuffed, but when Keith got his hands on it he was happy, squeezing the ears or small tail, drooling all over it and babbled excitedly as he hugged it close to his chest, refusing to let go of it once his tiny hands were on it.  
She always had to carefully remove it once he fell asleep, fearing he would smother himself with it.

 

Krolia absolutely loved her life. But it was when a small sound she hadn’t heard in so long pricked her ears one night that everything came crashing down. She had put Keith to bed, the small child breathing softly as his fingers curled into his hippo as his mother was gently, slowly removing it like she was diffusing a bomb. She looked up, eyes swinging around the room before she finished her current mission, bending low to kiss her son’s forehead before depositing the smiling hippo in the nest and began to look around the room. She found the box that she had stored her infiltration suit in. The deep purple fabric looking foreign when she had grown so used to cut off shorts and loose fitting tank tops. Her mate had gone out and bought some clothes solely for her, and yet she always found herself raiding his wardrobe (one time asking what the significance of a Quiet Riot was that it was plastered all over the black shirt that she had taken that day).

She dug through one of the pouches, gently pushing aside the empty knife holster (her blade currently resided under her pillow) to find the small black device. It fit neatly between her thumb, fore and middle fingers (the one time her mate saw it he said it looked like a dog clicker, whatever that was), and the small purple light was flashing. She glanced back towards her child, before quietly leaving the room and into the hallway for privacy as she pressed a small button.  
“Report.” Kolivan’s voice was wrong in the quiet little house, echoing off the walls. All at once her mission came back to her. The reason she was supposed to be here. “You were supposed to report back phoebs ago.”  
“Everything is fine.” her voice felt thick and she was glad that there was no visual for this communication. She didn’t know what her superior would think to see herself dressed not in her suit and in a house, looking less like a member of an elite squad and more like a domestic housewife.

 

Oh merciful ancestors, she was a domestic housewife.

 

“Then explain to me why you haven’t reported back. Is everything going well with finding the Lion?”

She couldn’t lie. Well, no. She could. She could lie very easily and say that she wasn’t able to find it. That she was still searching but the energy reader had malfunctioned and as such she was going in blind.  
But that was more of an excuse. She felt her shoulders square as her free hand tightened into a fist, feeling the cold chill pool in her gut and her heart pound in her chest.  
“I’m sorry.” she closed her eyes, adding another layer of protection to herself, “I’ve… I have not found the Lion.”  
“Then the planet was a dead end.” She heard her leader sigh heavily. When she did not speak, she could invision his face hardening. “Krolia.” His voice was hard, and she winced as if she was punched.  
“I’m sorry.” she repeated, focusing on the feel of her nails digging into her palm. “I…” her words lilting as her voice wobbled faintly. She fought to keep tears at bay. “I have been compromised.”  
“What?” Kolivan’s voice rose and she let out a shushing sound out of reflex. “Explain!” his voice was still loud, and Krolia prayed to every deity above that Keith would not wake from his nap.

 

Unfortunately, no one listened and soon she heard the soft whimpers from the room behind her, hiccupping sobs and Krolia’s heart broke, as it always did, when her son began to cry, startled awake and none too happy about being woken up. Kolivan definitely heard that, but she paid no mind when her superior was demanding to know what was going on. She went to her child, lifting him into her arms and cradled him, cooing softly as she stared into those watery eyes. “Hush, hush,” she whispered, “it’s alright little one.” For the briefest of moments she forgot Kolivan was listening, forgot that she was on a mission again, forgot everything except Keith. “I’m here. I’m here.” her child settled, whimpering again as he clung to her shirt and she gently wiped away his tears with a gentle thumb, shushing him as he gave out quiet sobs before falling into sleep once more. Even then she refused to set him back down, worried that he would wake up. 

 

She startled slightly when Kolivan spoke once more, softer this time. “Krolia.” She took a shuddering breath, staring down her her son.  
“I have a baby.” was all she said. It was all that was needed to be said. It spoke of everything that had happened.

 

“You will return to the base at once.” Kolivan said after a long, pregnant pause. She knew it wasn’t a request. Her mission was over. She had failed. Krolia looked to her son, sleeping so peacefully and she felt her heart crack at the thought of leaving him now.  
“Sir,” she said carefully. “My cub-”  
“At once, Krolia.” his voice was firm, and her hesitation died. She closed her eyes, feeling tears begin to slide down her face.

“Understood.”

 

The transmission ended, and Krolia spent the next three hours holding her child, settled in the nest she’d made, crying softly. That was how her mate found her when he returned from work. And the three of them stayed together, huddled close as their son slept soundly, unaware that his small family was going to be broken.

 

The next day, Krolia had dressed in her Blade uniform, checking her pouches to make sure she had everything. Her mate had given her a necklace, one that she tucked underneath her clothes, hiding it from prying eyes. A simple silver chain with heartshaped charm at the end. As she looked herself over in the mirror, she frowned at how she looked. She had grown used to dressing so casual. Stealing sweatpants and sweaters. Stealing t-shirts and tank tops. Wearing a cropped red jacket and sunglasses. She didn’t recognize herself in these clothes. And she knew her memories would be all she’d have left of this place. Of her mate and child. Of this small little house on the edge of town, far away from prying eyes. With the beaten, old pickup truck that would rumble to life in the mornings and growl when it came home. With the generator that had given out one time during a storm, so she and her mate had lit candles and cuddled together with cold, day-old take out as they listened to the rain pound against the roof and the thunder rolling through the night.  
Where she’d given birth to Keith while her mate was at work, startling him when he’d returned home to her bloody, cradling an equally bloody baby before he had then gathered what would be needed to clean them both (he had to go out and buy more towels since all the ones in the house had been thrown into the nest and were, thus, useless to be used to clean).

Where she’d tried to live a normal life.

 

She left the room, finding her mate standing there, holding their son who was quiet as he hugged his hippo. She took a breath, schooling herself so she wouldn’t cry. Not now.  
Later she would. When she was back in her ship and had left Earth. When it was speck behind her and she was about to make a jump, then she would cry. She would cry big, ugly tear and curl in on herself. She would bawl and wail and scream where no one could hear her. She would curse Kolivan, curse the Blades. Curse Zarkon and the Lions and Alfor and Altea. Curse herself for putting this on her. Curse her mate for being so damn charming. Curse everyone and everything. But not Keith.

 

But now, she would stay calm, even as her heart shattered piece by piece with every step she took. Crumbled when she kissed her mate, when he kissed her back. It broke when she looked down to her son, whom she wouldn’t see grow up. Wouldn’t be there for when he got older. She bent low to kiss his forehead, smiled when he cooed and giggled happily, raising a hand towards her. She took the small appendage, letting those little fingers curl around her own. Felt his grip tighten as she kissed those tiny fingers, knowing she’d never get to do this again.

 

When her son let go, content to grab onto his hippo, she looked to her mate. “Take care of him.” she said, proud that her voice was steady.  
“I guess there’s no chance of you coming back?” he asked, his accent light. A voice she’d never hear again. So many things she’d never have again.

Krolia shook her head. “Not unless I go AWOL. And I can’t do that.”  
“I understand. You have something important to do.” his gaze lowered to their son.  
“I will work harder, now. To protect you both.” her voice wavered slightly, but she gritted her teeth. Her mate made no comment on it. “I love you. Both of you.” She gazed down to their child, who was looking up to her, eyes innocent to what was going on. She gently brushed his hair back, before reaching behind her and removed her blade. “Give this to him.” she said, watching as her mate eyed the weapon. “Not right now. When he’s older. I want him to have something to remember me.”

 

He gently adjusted the small child, taking the short knife. Watched as the light glinted off the sharp edge. “I’ll tell him about you.” he said, looking up to her. “I’ll make sure he knows his mother loves him.” Krolia smiled and the two leaned forward once more in a kiss. “I love you.” he whispered once they broke apart and she could see that he, too, was fighting to keep the tears at bay. Fighting to keep his voice steady.

 

Krolia only smiled, brushing her fingers against his cheek before she turned and left. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Goodbye would hurt.

 

 

Her mate would remember her. Remember all the days he spent with her. Remember her taking care of Keith. He would remember a few days after she left as he wrestled the small baby into a diaper, laughing. “My, my, you’re squirmy!”  
He’d remember Keith laughing, clapping his hands and saying his first words. Words that broke his heart. “Ma-ma!” He remembered when Keith realized that Mama wasn’t around, huffing when he began call out “Ma-ma!” when his father was suddenly the only one he saw anymore, crying and being more stubborn about being fed. He’d remember when Keith settled, no longer cried for her. Remembered when he’d start babbling for “Pap-pap” instead. And that broke his heart further.

 

Keith wouldn’t remember much. When he grew older. When his father had given him his mother’s knife. Told him that she had left when he was little. Told him that she loved him, he was bitter. How could she love him as much as his father claimed, but just leave him?  
But his dreams remembered. He’d remember a warm embrace. A voice cooing down to him, calming him when he was upset.  
Those were the nights Keith woke with tears burning his eyes and an ache in his chest. Those were the nights he’d pull out the small knife and hold it close, curled around it protectively. That was when he wished he could remember her. Remember those days.  
When his mother was there.


End file.
